April 2nd, 2004

goblin sneak

the soundlessness of objects colliding in space.

while h.p. lovecraft talked at length about the non-euclidian appearance of dread r'yleh, no one has drawn the obvious parallel to the literally non-euclidian house on ash tree lane. though to say this is to mistake my point for another: navidson's house is not also secretly an island in the pacific. rather, i mean to suggest that the house, like great cthulhu, is asleep. it stirs in its slumber, true, but its tenuous connection with the world navidson knows (a world no less strange to him, despite his familarity with cruelties) is one single umbilical hallway. perhaps navidson's house is waiting to be born. the house, in a way, is the inverted reflection of the tom & navy. it is the immortal medusae to the very mortal sthenno & euryale. will navidson himself is the template for this, the perfect gorgon who turns things to stone, freezing them where they were with his camera. the house turns its gaze on itself- despite its protean format, nothing about it really changes- for all the lengthening of stairs (kaidan in japanese, a word that also means ghost story) or closing of doors, the house remains pristine, invoilate, devouring explorer's provisions & reflective tape in hours. as for convivial tom, well. it is within his rich internal life where his fierce gaze is focused, turning all the good moments into eternal fantasies trapped in amber.

like medusa, sthenno, & euryale, their family is rent asunder.
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closeup samurai

we make knives out of soap on the graveyard shift.

i don't even know what to say. lately i've been shaking like a sycamore tree in a tornado (or at least during a vigorous thunderstorm). always feeling like a house might drop out of the sky onto me. both jenny & are on spring break this week, & on monday jenny is going to providence to see pat. when i say "pat" you should read something else. its not even my story to tell. the gist of it involves her sleeping with him, her telling me not to visit her. this was before all things began in earnest. he broke her heart & i comforted her. i guess thats sort of how it goes, at least the parts i'm privvy to. who the fuck knows what else might be kept secret.

anyhow, i've just been sensitive about it. i know impervious confidence when i'm lying or being cruel. i know how to boil frogs alive, slowly turning up the heat incriment by incriment. but i don't know anything about love. i do know about jealousy, though. & i know a whole lot about abandonment. so i'm touchy, okay? & she's been less than perfect in dealing with it. teasing me just ain't fun when the wounds still ache. i guess she's been acting secretive because of other reasons, but lines like "i'm not lying to you, i'm being evasive" just arn't helping any.

& it isn't like i think she's going to cheat on me. despite, you know, the corallaries of history. i guess if we're being entirely honest i'd have to admit that i do have this spook in my gut that she'll get drunk & act on some spur of the moment. oh spurs, how you & all your cowboy paraphinalia desert me when push comes to shove. mostly i'd just like some coddling to get me through this bitter jealousy.

i know i'm being petty. i've already won. i've got the girl & she's got me. & if the tables were turned, & i wanted to go visit cortney, then i'd be less than sympathetic to jenny's complaints (or at least, now i would be. who can say how i'd react in a vaccuum). its not like i've tried to "forbid" her, or set some stupid ultimatums. as childish as i usually am, i am not some retard. i might not have what most people would call emotions, but i've read books. i'm just sulking, & wish she'd come after me & say nice things to me.

while antonio was visiting, he brought up a reasonable point. if the transformers are supposed to be "robots in disguise," then what the fuck is up with grimlock & the other dinobots? what kind of "disguise" is a GIGANTIC ROBOTIC TYRANOSAURUS REX?
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